


Lacking only wings

by Sann



Series: Fire and doilies [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dragon Riders, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 01:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7246681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sann/pseuds/Sann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lobelia is naught but a tween when she discovers a stranded dragon on one of her trips to gather the perfect flowers to decorate her hats with. The dragon, who is truly quite a horrible sight to see, knows nothing but its name and an impressive collection of uncouth obscenities. Smaug, he calls himself, and Lobelia decides that –dreadful manners, hideous looks and truly atrocious name aside- he will make a great house pet. </p><p>The community however, does not quite agree. But in the end finding Smaug brings about not only her widespread shunning but also her marriage to the most desirable bachelor, acquisition of an immaculate set of silverware with complementary house and doilies. Too bad it also meant her involuntary inclusion in the most dreadful of all dreadful activities: an adventure.</p><p>But then again, what kind of wife would she be if she’d let het dearest love-muffin get eaten by a ravenous horde of filthy goblins? Not one with a vengeful pet-dragon and an umbrella with a very sharp pointy end, that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lacking only wings

“My my,” Lobelia Bracegirdle, resplendent in a lovely green frock edged with the most marvellous of all lace trimmings, stated. “Aren’t you an ugly creature.”

The lizard, for what else could the scaled behemoth lying in the flowery ditch besides Lobelia’s favourite path be, cracked one eye open and glared at her.

“Don’t you glare at me, you dirty thing.” She scoffed, nose turned up arrogantly and hands on her waist. “I bet you’re riddled with disease. In fact, I shouldn’t even dally here any further and just get the bounders to take care of you. Ta-ta.”  
  
With that said she made to leave, full skirts swishing madly around her knees in an altogether very fancy and (which no one was to know) practiced motion.

“Stop.” The creature growled, sounding not much unlike her great-grandfather who had smoked one to many pipes in his youth and was now paying the price.

“It talks.” Lobelia grew pale but nevertheless turned around to face the creature. “Of course it talks. What’s next? Will trees start singing and birds start sprouting sonnets? Good gracious, before long I’ll have my teacups berating my manners and my mirror telling me how to wear my bonnet. As if my manners and fashion choices are anything but the very pinnacle of respectability.”

“I am Smaug,” it rumbled, “Smaug the-“

Its sentence trailed off into nothingness and for a good long and uncomfortable while Hobbit and remarkably filthy lizard simply stared at each other in silence. Before long Lobelia got impatient though.

“Well, go on then. Please add some titles to that atrocious name of yours, not that it would do it any good. Smaug, what were your parents thinking naming you something that awful? You are Smaug the … “

The creature growled again, showing rows of ugly, stained teeth the size of, well, her. “Silence, disgusting creature. I am thinking and your fleshiness distracts me. Keep quiet or I’ll eat you.”

In a motion worthy of any warrior of some renown Lobelia lashed out, ever-present umbrella whacking solidly against the creature’s nose in one swift move. “Say that again and I’ll tan your hide and wear it to the most despicable parties hosted in _Bree_ and tell everyone that it came from _you_.”

Now, if the creature was a Hobbit that statement would have been paramount to a declaration of war. If the creature was a Hobbit who had run into Lobelia Bracegirdle before they would know this was the only sign of the total annihilation to follow.

“Dis- “

Nothing followed. Whatever courage the beast had summoned withered away when faced with the glare sent his way. It was as if all the warmth had left him, as if the sun had been swallowed by the frost this little glacier was sending his way.

“ _Say. That. Again_.”

The beast gulped. “Never mind.”

The smile that curled Lobelia’s lips into a pale pink crescent moon _could_ , if one was unaware of her nature, be described as sweet. As most of her so-called ‘frenemies’ could, however, attest to it was anything but sweet.

“Oh good. Tell me, Smaug,” she purred, hissing out his name. “I find myself in need of a most respectable pastime, though few hold my interest. Gardening, pah, as if I would ever get my hands in mud for fun. I dislike sewing or knitting or embroidering and if anyone suggest I take up something as uncouth as learning to emulate the alphabet by emitting bodily sounds out of an orifice other than the mouth I will strangle someone. My dearest mother, however, suggested I get a pet. You seem to be just the kind of creature I could learn to enjoy taking on boring walks to evade the incessant and terribly unintelligent chatter of my _dear, dear_ friends. What say you, oh Smaugh the title-less?”

He regarded her carefully, this overgrown speaking rabbit with her eyes like chips of ice and her odd not-sword. She reminded him of something, of an ache so deep he could feel it echo in his bones. It had to be her hair, so bright it shone like the sun. She looked like-

Like what? He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t name it. Couldn’t picture it. But he remembered the feel, cold but _warm_. Cold to his touch, warm to his soul. He tilted his head and regarded the pile of flesh and cloth in front of him more closely. Warm to his touch, he supposed, like most creatures were. But cold, cold like winter and ice and things that made his head shudder to no-recall it. She was his precious _something,_ but inversed. Turned around. Made different.

She would do, he supposed, as the thing his being told him to keep. Be kept? He didn’t know. It didn’t make sense. He was hungry.

“Will food be provided?”

Lobelia’s smile curved up even further, making her rosy cheeks dimple and her eyes sparkle. She looked the very picture of proper, pure joy. “Of course it will be, silly .. whatever you are. I suppose I should find out what kind of lizard you are. You don’t happen to remember?”

Flashes of the sky, of fire and _something_ and heaps of _he can’t remember_. A word comes to his mind, a name, a moniker for his kind. “I am a dragon.”

If Lobelia were a Man, or perhaps an Elf, she would recoil and run for the hills. If Hobbits were to know what sort of creature a dragon was, they would politely bid them goodbye and calmly walk away until out of sight, which was when they would promptly faint. Lobelia being both a Hobbit and with the kind of arrogance many kings of old would be proud of, she merely nodded wisely and pretended to know what a dragon was.

“Ah.” A stately nod followed her statement. “Of course, a dragon. I should have known. Well, that’s perfectly fine. I doubt anyone would find fault with such a proper creature as my beloved companion. Come along now, time to introduce you to the who’s who of society.”

If Smaug still retained most parts of his memory the reaction would have made him wonder if her sanity was intact. As it was, he supposed being a dragon was little to be afraid of. Content with their arrangement and with the promise of food on his mind he followed after his tiny little .. whatever she was.

* * *

The moment they walked into the town proper people politely fawned over her new pet dragon.

“So pretty,” Hyacinth Proudfoot murmured disinterestedly, patting Smaug on what little she could reach of what amounted to his toe. “What a dear.”

A few old gaffers nodded approvingly from their comfortable lawn chairs. “Such a good choice, a dragon. Practical too. I bet that one will be great at hunting mice.”

Lobelia glowed like the sun and the stars and the entire night sky while she paraded her newest acquisition like one might a new dress, a most amazing pie or a new-born faunt. Finally, she was getting the attention she deserved, finally they would see her as-

A fly landed.

Smaug sneezed.

Hobbiton burned.

Lobelia Bracegirdle’s reputation vanished in less time than it took Herbert Chubb to empty a cookie jar.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been on my computer for nearly a year? I'm trying to get back into the Hobbit-mindset so who's better to help me do that than dear Lobelia. Gosh, I love her. I saddled Bilbo with a nice dragon, so Lobelia gets the meanest of them all. Hehehe. Hope you like it :)


End file.
